French
by WhisperToMeSoftly
Summary: oneshot. RobinxMarian, pre-series. "You're wicked," she scolded him, although her eyes were alight with glee. “John will murder you.” Robin just threw her that confident, self-assured smile...


"You're wicked," she scolded him, although her eyes were alight with glee. "John will murder you." Robin just threw her that confident, self-assured smile that made her feel warm and tingly inside.

"Oh, come on. You know he deserved it, Marian," he said happily, leaping around her in the tall grasses. "After what he said to us? He called you a petite wench!"

She just smiled gently. "I thought it was funny how he used a French accent when he said that."

The young boy shook his head, his face turned to the sky as he skipped in circles. "Nah. He just wanted that girl to think he knew how t' speak French. I heard him before we ran out." The grasses rippled beneath him as he halted, wrapped an arm around Marian's shoulders and pulled her close, and said in a mock-deep voice, in a French accent: "'Ah, _ma cherie_, of course I speak ze French!'" She looked up at him, a hand to her mouth to hold in her giggles. He was enjoying this—she could tell. His entire face was scrunched in an imitation of John Willows, serious and scowling. He let go of her shoulders, and continued to leap around; this time, he held an imaginary sword, and struck out with it at the waving grasses around him. "And then he started spewing this gibberish like it was actually French."

"It wasn't?" she asked, that soft smile still lingering as she tilted her head. "How do you know?"

"'Cause my Pa wants me to know French," he replied with a disgusted expression. "It's such a girly language."

Marian folded her arms, regarding the leaping boy in front of her with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. _Robin…_ "Maybe you could teach me, then," she said delicately.

He stopped in his sword fighting, catching her gaze with his vibrant green eyes. (_For a moment, she couldn't breathe._) Then a slow smile spread from ear-to-ear. "Yeah. Maybe I could."

They smiled at each other for a few moments, then Robin lowered his sword arm—and, presumably, his sword. "I wonder what punishment John is gonna get," he said with delight. Marian threw up her hands.

"Robin!"

"What?"

"You're not supposed to be happy about things like that!"

He tilted his head, twiddling a piece of grass around his finger distractedly. "He deserved it," he said again firmly. "He called you a wench."

She reached down, plucking a fluffy pod off of the top of one of the grasses and rubbing it between her fingers. "I don't see why it matters, Robin," Marian said quietly, looking down at the fluffy bundle in her hands. "He's just a silly cow-head. I don't care what he says."

The young heir of Locksley turned away from her, still brushing his fingers over the grass blades. "You're not a wench," she heard him mutter vehemently.

In all her 9 years, she had never seen a child at this age seem so…old. Mature. A man. Any other day, perhaps with any other boy, she would have admired it. But now it frightened her. His shoulders were straight, he faced away from her with his chin up, staring into the glowing orange sun as it slowly made its way towards the horizon. His silhouette was almost unfamiliar, he stood so proud and so strong.

"And I won't let no one call you one, either. Even if it ain't true."

Marian made her way towards him, the downy pod still clutched in her small hands. The grasses tickled her bare feet, and made her skirt billow around her ankles, but all she could see was Robin's defiant outline against the sun.

She gently laid a hand on his shoulder—she felt him relax beneath her touch. Then she reached up with the fluffy pod…and tickled his neck with it.

He giggled in a most un-manly way, scrunching his shoulders and wiggling. "Marian!" he exclaimed, his expression horrified but his eyes laughing as he whirled to face her. She laughed, throwing the pod at him.

"Catch me if you can!" she dared, hitching up her skirts and sprinting across the field. Robin's face lit up with excitement—sheathing his invisible sword, he pushed apart the grasses and chased after his friend.

"No one tickles me without revenge!"


End file.
